I’m never going to find out how that novel ended. The wonderful, witty woman who would send me each chapter as she dashed it off has left us for the great keyboard in some fantastic writer’s study on the other side. I like to think Jane is up there having a drink with Jane Austen and James M. Cain as they cynically discuss the mortals who remain on this planet. Any loss is a great one, but losing a friend, a sister writer and a mentor is a gray tragedy. When Jane Oliver Menard slipped quietly away, stolen by cancer, she left a hole in many people’s lives.